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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27685763">King of the Moles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/highkeylowkeynervous/pseuds/highkeylowkeynervous'>highkeylowkeynervous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We Will Rise [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Kinda?, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, This is based off Wilbur's '100 Players as Blind Moles' video</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:41:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,065</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27685763</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/highkeylowkeynervous/pseuds/highkeylowkeynervous</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Oreli had a choice. Grovel at the feet of a God who reveled in their suffering, or stand and fight. Well, he was gonna die either way. Why not go out fighting?</p><p>----</p><p>First Work in a series based off Wilbur' 100 Players videos, this one is based off the Mole one. I'd reccomend watching the video before reading this</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>No Romantic Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We Will Rise [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024579</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>King of the Moles</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The champion waited.</p><p>He knew the Sky God wouldn't just let him live. He'd gained his favor only because he'd shown skill in combat. The Sky God had even killed him twice, but brought him back. Oreli didn't know what for.</p><p>He had been waiting in one of them many dug out caverns, waiting for the Sky God to find him. He'd considered going down easily. Following orders promised a quick death.</p><p>But he'd disobeyed the Sky God too much already. He knew he was guarenteed a painful death. He assumed it would once again be combat. He assumed that even if he won, the Sky God had run out of mercy for him.</p><p>Oreli wasn't expecting the mole sent to kill him to look so...empty. When you got close enough, most just looked desperate, scared. Eager to please a God who was out to kill them all.</p><p>Not this one.</p><p>From what little Oreli could see, there was nothing behind his eyes, no emotion on his face. Even as the champion brought the killing blow, close enough to see his face in the pitch black underground, his eyes showed only a calm understanding. An acceptance. </p><p>"This is my True Freedom. Thank you," the mole told him as he died. Oreli wondered if he was smiling. </p><p>He searched the body, wondering if the Sky God had bestowed any gifts to his chosen. Sometimes he got lucky.</p><p>This time, all he found was a leather bound journal. It glowed with ancient magic. Oreli felt bitter resignation. Even if it was a powerful enchantment, he wouldn't be able to use it. He opened it anyway.</p><p>The title scrawled on the inside would've been hard to read, but the glow from the book solved that problem.</p><p>It was familiar handwriting. </p><p>'My Pain, by Wilbur Soot'.</p><p>So it was by the Sky God. Or at the very least, the Sky God had published it. The entires were numerous, the first reading:</p><p>
  <em>"Day 18476, </em>
  <br/>
  <em>Wilbur came to visit me. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>He gave me this journal to write in. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>I shall do my best."</em>
</p><p>So it had be written by the mole. Like always, the Sky God simply rejoiced in taking their work and making a mockery of it. He read another entry in the journal. </p><p>
  <em>"Day 18477,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>No sign of anyone today, just plain loneliness."</em>
</p><p>He read another.</p><p>
  <em>"Day 18478,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I cried today."</em>
</p><p>Another,</p><p>
  <em>"Day 18479,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I can't feel my legs. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>Are they even still there? </em>
  <br/>
  <em>I am scared, pissed off and lonely."</em>
</p><p>Another,</p><p>
  <em>"Day 18480, </em>
  <br/>
  <em>Help."</em>
</p><p>He turned the page. The entires got more and more formless.</p><p>
  <em>"Day 18481,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Am I going insane? I probably am going insane. Otherwise I wouldn't be here would I? What am I saying.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Day 18482, </em>
  <br/>
  <em>Cried today."</em>
</p><p>Next page.</p><p>
  <em>"Day 18483, </em>
  <br/>
  <em>Thinking about writing a Communist Manifesto."</em>
</p><p>Oreli almost laughed at that one. </p><p>
  <em>"Day 18484, </em>
  <br/>
  <em>How long has it been? I've not been able to feel my legs for days now. I don't know if it will ever come back."</em>
</p><p>Oreli wondered if he had meant his legs or the Sky God.</p><p>He skipped through the entries. They continued on. Some were about the writer's legs, some were quotes from famous novels, some were just the word <em>'help'</em>. One was an entire page of scribbles.</p><p>The entry<em> 'Didn't cry today.'</em> was followed up a few pages later with <em>'That's a lie I did cry.' </em></p><p>More followed suit. The days had stopped being tracked somewhere in the journal.</p><p>One particularly lengthy entry was two pages worth of the writer's thoughts on bedrock. It seemed the write was surrounded by it. Claiming all they had was Bedrock and hope.</p><p>
  <em>"Bedrock &amp; hope. Might be the title of my autobiography once I get out. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>If I get out.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Sorry for the long post, TLDR: Cried today."</em>
</p><p>It continued on even after that.</p><p>Entires of the single word <em>'Pain'</em>, entires mentioning crying and legs.</p><p>One entry mentioned a scream. One mentioned a call to the surface the writer couldn't answer.</p><p>The days started being tracked again, but the writer had scribbled a wondering if the numbers were even right.</p><p>
  <em>"Maybe I've been here for much longer than that. Maybe I've only been here for an hour. I just don't know. Help me."</em>
</p><p>That was the end.</p><p>Oreli felt hollow after finishing it. No wonder his would be killer had looked so empty. From the journal, it seemed like while the other moles had at least had freedom, the Sky God had imprisoned the writer in Bedrock and left him there. For days. Maybe until he had been given the task to kill Oreli.</p><p>It made the champion sick to his stomach. All that time alone...</p><p>It was a miracle the journal stayed as legible as it did.</p><p>Standing up, Oreli brushed himself off. He placed the journal in his inventory. He would try to get it re-published. Take the Sky God's name off of it.</p><p>He couldn't bury the writer. It felt wrong to leave his body there, but it felt worse to box him in again.</p><p>It seemed that he wouldn't have to think about that for much longer, apparently.</p><p>The Sky God appeared. Oreli didn't doubt he had watched the entire fight. Why he hadn't made his appearance as soon as it was over, the champion didn't care</p><p>He longed to plunge his sword into the chest of the bastard. Almost thought about challenging the God to a second duel.<br/>Before he could, the Sky God had started speaking.</p><p>The God's silver tongue began to whisper to him, promising and praising. Oreli didn't believe any of it for a second. Didn't trust the silver tonuge that convinced mortals to jump to their deaths, drink poison, and to kill all for a God that revealed in their suffering.</p><p>"We found the King of the moles. We've found the King of the moles everyone!"</p><p>Oreli didn't bother wondering who the God was talking to. He didn't bother talking to the God either. He simply stewed in silence as the Sky God went on, raving about "finishing the job".</p><p>Then the God put down a command block. He told Oreli to finish the job. To press the button. Called him King, called him Champion. And Oreli had a choice.</p><p>Live kneeling, or die standing.</p><p>Well, he already made that choice a long time ago.</p><p>
  <em>"nah"</em>
</p><p>Oreli left the game.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wrote this a couple weeks ago after binge-watching Wilbur's 100 Players vids. Needless to say, I have brain rot.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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